


To Build Anew

by Laramie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“An-fucking-struther,” Jimmy muttered darkly as he crossed the ten feet of paving in front of his building. He yanked his keys out of his coat pocket and slammed into the car. He continued chuntering sulkily under his breath as the car roared into wakefulness. “Callin’ me in the middle of the night, ‘come pick me up, Jimmy’, fucking-An-fucking-struther...”</p><p>With much swearing, he extricated the car from its kerbside parking space; the underground car park cost extra. He didn’t set the sat-nav that was glowing in the dashboard; he didn’t have to. <i>See, dad, there was a use to me ‘running about the city at all hours’.</i></p><p>Mod AU. Fairly dark (but will have a happy ending). Spoilery trigger warnings in the end notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **See the end notes for spoilery trigger warnings.**

“An-fucking-struther,” Jimmy muttered darkly as he crossed the ten feet of paving in front of his building. He yanked his keys out of his coat pocket and slammed into the car. He continued chuntering sulkily under his breath as the car roared into wakefulness. “Callin’ me in the middle of the night, ‘come pick me up, Jimmy’, fucking-An-fucking-struther...”

With much swearing, he extricated the car from its kerbside parking space; the underground car park cost extra. He didn’t set the sat-nav that was glowing in the dashboard; he didn’t have to. _See, dad, there was a use to me ‘running about the city at all hours’._

Driving through the relatively-quiet streets, Jimmy calmed a little, losing himself in the bright lights and cheerfully drunk pedestrians that populated a city at midnight. The majority of the other cars were taxis like Jimmy’s, but the sleek black cabs contrasted with Jimmy’s silver Lexus. Radio 1 was blaring out house music from some festival he couldn’t afford to go to; Jimmy turned it up enough to feel it jumping in his bones.

He pulled up fifteen minutes later outside his dad's business. It was a far more classy building than the one Jimmy lived in; modern and glassy-eyed. Jimmy blasted the horn for a few seconds and chewed his nails until Anstruther came out, looking flushed. An uncontrollable scowl twisted Jimmy’s features at the sight of her.

Elegantly, she slid into the passenger seat. “Good evening.”

Jimmy felt his stomach tighten as he started the meter and shoved the car into gear, bringing his hand closer to her leg than he would have liked in the enclosed space. He pushed down too hard on the accelerator, making the wheels spin as the car pulled away with a jerk.

Anstruther reached out and turned the music down to a murmur and Jimmy had to clench the steering wheel to stop himself from turning round and breaking her wrist for daring to touch anything.

“How are you?” she asked into the charged quiet.

“Fine, thanks, Ms Anstruther,” he bit out, making a violent left turn.

“I’m glad to hear it, _James_.”

Jimmy sneered and imagined pushing her right out of the car. “I mean _An_ , of course.”

“Thank you, Jimmy. Lots of customers?”

“Fuckin’ drownin’ in ‘em,” Jimmy muttered under his breath. Mostly his customers were students on nights out and friends from school clinging on to loyalty despite Jimmy’s resentment of them, his family, and the world at large. He flicked on his indicator.

Anstruther caught his hand and made him turn it off again. “Not that way, dear, you know it’s much faster if you go straight on.”

Snatching his hand away, Jimmy glared at the road ahead. It was true, of course, but he had hoped that Anstruther would not know that.

Luckily, it was only a five-minute drive to her flat, or Jimmy might have snapped under her probing, faux-caring questions. “4.80,” he told her, after a glance at the glowing red numbers on the meter.

Anstruther handed over a tenner and slipped out of the car while Jimmy was hunting for change. She crossed around the nose of the car and leaned down to say: “Keep the change,” before gliding away.

Briefly, Jimmy considered throwing a fistful of coins at the back of her head. He wondered how many he would manage to hit her with. But then, he did need the money.

Just for a moment, he let his gaze linger on the elegant building. It was one of his dad’s designs, and the witch was staying there like there was some _connection_ between them. Her flat was far bigger than his, he knew.

Jimmy sighed, turned up the music, and got back on the road.

By the time he had got home, the comforting burn of anger had drained away, and he just felt lonely. The silence pounded in his ears as the radio and engine turned off. Climbing out of the car, he turned his back on the friendly flash of the headlights as the car locked. The towering buildings loomed over him, as though they were leaning in to share a secret above the tiny yard. The concrete pillars holding the first floor above the walkway cast strange shadows in the orange glow of the streetlights.

As he neared the small fountain in the centre of the yard (someone’s attempt at pretending that the place wasn’t a complete dive), Jimmy heard someone repeatedly trying to strike a match, followed by muffled swearing. He saw a man with dark hair hunched on the stone bench which enclosed the water. Even though his face was heavily shadowed, it was sort of interesting. Jimmy wondered whether he was a new resident; he hadn’t seen the man before. He detoured over.

“I’ve got a light if you’ve got a spare.”

The man looked up in surprise, noticing the plastic yellow lighter Jimmy was holding out. Now that he was getting a better look, Jimmy saw that he was very attractive; sort of pale and lean but with the hint of muscles and a rounded belly under his coat. A body of contradictions that Jimmy was suddenly eager to discover. He was younger than Jimmy had first thought, too: 25, maybe; only a few years older than Jimmy. Grey eyes seemed to assess him.

“No,” the guy said simply, and went back to striking the match against the matchbox.

Jimmy fidgeted and rubbed the lighter with his thumb. “Can use the lighter anyway, if you want,” he offered.

The guy looked up again and sighed. “Thanks.” He tossed the match over his shoulder, where it landed with a tiny _splish_ in the water, and took the lighter from Jimmy. As he lit up, his eyes slid closed for a moment in an expression of relief that a non-smoker would never understand. When he handed the lighter back, Jimmy made sure their fingers touched.

“Mind if I sit with you a minute?”

The guy shrugged. “It’s a free country,” he said coolly, but then smiled.

Instinctively, Jimmy smiled back as he sat down.

“I’ve only got two left,” the guy explained, indicating his cigarette. “Don’t know when I can get more.”

“Have you just moved here?”

“To the city? Lived here all my life.”

Jimmy caught the edge of second-hand smoke and wished he hadn’t left his cigarettes in his flat. “No, this building,” he clarified, noting the freckles on the guy’s cheeks and the regrowth of hair already starting above his top lip. “If you live here.”

“I don’t, as a matter of fact.”

“Ah, right,” Jimmy replied vaguely, his mind racing. “No pressure, then.”

“What?”

“You know, if we end up hating each other,” he explained, and searched the guy’s eyes for... something. “Won’t be too awkward.” _C’mon, help me out here, are you gay or not?_

“S’pose,” the guy said noncommittally. He seemed distracted, as though he was thinking about something else.

Jimmy nudged him. “So what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” he said, infusing his smile with enough playfulness that the guy was free to take it as either a flirtation or a joke.

“Lookin’ for the right guy,” he responded in the same teasing tone, leaving Jimmy just as uncertain as before.

“Um. Not a girl?” he asked, letting the humour drop from his voice.

“Nah. Not my type. Er... I’m gay, actually.”

Jimmy fixed on his best smile. “Me too. And you’re hot.”

The guy actually _blushed_ , letting his eyes drop away. This was so easy.

“Shy, are ya?” Jimmy said, leaning closer.

“No,” he said defiantly; there was a challenge in his eyes when he met Jimmy’s gaze again.

“Good,” Jimmy growled, and closed the last distance between them. They snogged for a while until Jimmy pulled back and asked: “You want to come up?”

“Erm...”

Jimmy hadn’t really expected him to look so uncertain. He gave a shrug. “Just for a drink, if you like. We can see where it goes from there.”

* * *

Jimmy awoke feeling relaxed but with restlessness lurking at the edge of his brain, as though he had forgotten something he was supposed to be anxious about. He stretched widely and realised that he oughtn’t be alone in bed this morning. The guy from last night (he never had asked the man’s name) had, after they had got each other off, asked very hesitantly if he could stay.

“Don’t mind,” Jimmy had replied sleepily, then turned over and closed his eyes. He remembered the guy settling under the duvet and had heard his breathing as they fell asleep.

But this morning, he wasn’t there. Jimmy glanced around; there was really nowhere to hide in his flat, since it was all one room plus a bathroom, and he was nowhere in sight. A glance at his phone revealed that it was 11:12am, and as Jimmy shoved his phone back on the bedside table (which doubled as the coffee table), he spotted a slip of paper with unfamiliar writing on it. He picked it up; it was one of his own receipts from the supermarket.

_You sleep a lot. If you ever wake up, just wanted to say thanks for last night. I have to go to work now. Thomas._

Jimmy crumpled the note, a little unnerved that the guy - Thomas - had managed to sneak out without him noticing.

He stretched again, went to the loo, and got back into bed for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a dream I had a few months ago. I didn't expect to actually end up writing it but here we are. I'm writing each chapter as I go along so expect updates every couple of days. Not sure how long it'll be; 4-5 chapters, probably.
> 
> I hope Thomas doesn't look too out-of-character. Hopefully as the fic goes on you'll understand why he's written that way.
> 
> Spoilery warnings below, so stop reading now if you want to avoid them or take a good look if that's what you're here for.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **Warnings** for abusive parents, a fairly unhealthy relationship and past rape (mentioned but not described in detail). Please be aware that even Thomas and Jimmy (mostly Jimmy) are shits to each other at first, so if that's something that bothers you I recommend you give this one a miss.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the following fortnight, Jimmy had enough taxi jobs that he could afford to take Daisy up on her offer of a Thursday night out with Ivy and Alfred. They oscillated between a few of the student pubs, taking advantage of the cheap drinks. Ivy and Alfred were as disgustingly couple-y as usual - to the extent that, when Jimmy escaped outside for a cigarette, Daisy followed. They huddled under one of the umbrellas to avoid the drizzle.

“I’d hate to be serving at this time of night,” Daisy said, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re a waitress,” Jimmy pointed out. “What’s the difference?”

“At least none of my customers are drunk. Well,” she amended. “Not many.”

Jimmy just shrugged.

“I probably shouldn’t have come,” Daisy said after a moment. She was clutching her elbows against the cold. “I’ve got an assignment to finish by next week but staring at the walls is doing my head in.”

“Mm,” Jimmy grunted, not eager to talk about university.

“When are _you_ planning to go?”

Jimmy dropped his cigarette on the floor and went inside.

Daisy drifted after him, and when they sat down the sight of her chewing her lips uncomfortably made him stand up again immediately and suggest a game of snooker.

Hours later, drunk and restless, Jimmy swayed back to his flat. It was still raining, so he took advantage of the walkway to get to the main door. When he drew near to the turn, he realised that there was a shadow, or a figure, hunched in the corner and hugging its knees. Jimmy squinted at it, willing his eyes to stop being so blurry.

“Thomas?” he said. He giggled at his unexpected presence, even as some part of him noted that this was the first time he had called the guy by his name.

Thomas looked up, slowly. He was shivering. “Hey,” he whispered.

“You-ou are cold,” Jimmy told him, pointing a wavering finger.

Thomas gave a tiny smile. “And you are drunk.”

“Yes,” Jimmy agreed, and carefully maneuvered himself round to sit next to Thomas. “What are you doing at... whatever time - night - here?”

“My dad was...” He glanced quickly at Jimmy. “Never mind.”

“No, what?” Jimmy demanded, pushing his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter,” Thomas said, watching himself rubbing his hands together between his knees.

Jimmy shoved Thomas harder. “Tell me!”

Thomas looked at him with a funny expression on his face and said: “I, I didn’t want to go home, that’s all.”

“So you’re here?”

“Yeah. I hadn’t been until the other day, when - er - when I met you - but I saw this covered bit and it seemed okay, so...”

Jimmy’s inebriated brain couldn’t quite keep up. “I’m cold,” he announced. “You should come in and drink a thing. A tea thing. Or something.” He got to his feet as he spoke, but Thomas wasn’t following.

“I - I don’t know -”

“Come _on_ ,” Jimmy ordered, and dragged him up by grabbing his upper arm. “I said it, so you have to come with me, right?”

Thomas let himself be pulled along the walkway and through the front door.

“I think I drank the alcohol,” Jimmy said. “But there’s definitely tea.” He stabbed the button for the lift while Thomas hovered half-a-step behind him. He was a good three inches taller than Jimmy. Something tight and panicky settled in Jimmy’s stomach. He turned and looked Thomas over; in just his navy-blue polo shirt, it was clear that Thomas was not as muscled as Jimmy was. Jimmy marched into the lift and Thomas followed.

“You should take your shirt off,” Jimmy said immediately.

“I - what?” Thomas looked befuddled.

Jimmy leaned closer in the enclosed space and said menacingly: “Take. Your shirt off.” He watched Thomas swallow and pull the polo shirt over his head, feeling reassured to see Thomas do as he said. Snatching the shirt out of Thomas’s hand, Jimmy threw it on his shoulder and leaned against the mirrored back wall of the lift.

Thomas had folded his arms uncomfortably, which Jimmy only saw out of the corner of his eye because he couldn’t look at Thomas properly.

The lift arrived on Jimmy’s floor. The two of them walked along the corridor to Jimmy’s flat and Jimmy let them in.

“Did you want to... do something?” Thomas asked.

“Dunno,” Jimmy said truthfully, flicking on the light switch. Now that he was home, the cheerful glow that the booze had given to everything was fading. He flopped onto his bed and examined the familiar ceiling. “Make me some tea.”

He listened to Thomas rattling around the kitchen area with satisfaction.

“What’s your dad like?” Thomas asked as the kettle began to bubble.

“Dunno. Just dad. Strict, I guess. Wasn’t around all that much.”

“Wasn’t?”

“He’s dead,” Jimmy said simply.

“Oh. I’m sorry. And your mum?”

“Her too.”

“Shit.”

“Mm. I hope you haven’t put the milk in first.”

“No. Do you have sugar?”

“One spoon.” As he heard Thomas putting the sugar packet back in the cupboard, Jimmy sat up. Thomas’s back was littered with red marks and old white scars; when he turned around with two mugs in his hands, his chest and stomach were too. Jimmy had not seen it before; last time, neither of them had removed their shirts, and in the lift, he had not looked. He did not mention it.

Thomas handed over Jimmy’s cup of tea and hunched over his own, sitting next to Jimmy on the bed. “Can I have my top back?”

“No.”

Thomas nodded vaguely, looking into his mug. “Were you out tonight, then?”

“Yeah. Went to a few pubs with some people from school. Daisy’s mooning over some girl at uni. At least she’s got over Alfred, anyway. That was a right mess for a while.” Jimmy blew on his tea and took his first sip. As the sweet, too-hot liquid spread over his tongue, he suddenly realised that he was doing it again. It was easy to see it in himself when he wasn’t drunk, and he was always disgusted with himself for it, but he could not seem to stop. It was the only way he felt safe.

Sickened, he leaned forward and put his tea on the table.

“Isn’t it okay?”

The sense of unease intensified at the sight of Thomas’s nervous expression. “No - it’s - fine. I just don’t feel like tea at the moment.”

Thomas didn’t say ‘ _even though you just fucking asked me to make you one’_ as Jimmy might have. Instead, he just said quietly: “Okay.”

Jimmy bit his tongue but inside he was screaming: ‘ _STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING DOORMAT! I’M NOT A MONSTER!’_

He reached around and lobbed Thomas’s polo shirt at him. “You should go.”

“I just got here.” Thomas looked hurt.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a sofa in this shitty excuse for a flat and I want my own bed so drink your tea and fuck off.” Jimmy winced at the harshness in his own voice. He just needed Thomas to go. He didn’t like how he acted when Thomas was there.

The overhead light was too harsh against Jimmy’s eyes as he watched Thomas leave his tea on the table and stand up. He was frowning. “Fuck you, then,” he said quietly.

The words plunged Jimmy into self-hatred. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded at once, desperate for Thomas to forgive him, so that maybe, somehow, he might forgive himself.

Thomas did not hesitate until he reached the door, where he paused with his hand on the door handle. “What’s your name?” he asked, without looking round.

“Please, Thomas -”

“What’s your name?” Thomas repeated flatly.

“I - Jimmy.”

“Fuck you, then, Jimmy.”

And he left Jimmy alone in his shame.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hello, Jimmy!”

Jimmy plopped down on his bed and grimaced at the floor. If only he had checked the caller ID before answering. It was Will. Jimmy had had a crush on him for a brief time during school but Will had been with Daisy for the whole last three years, before he went off to a university that was 100 miles away and they decided to break it off. “Hey. Y’alright?”

“Yes, I’m doing well. Errol” - that was his horse - “is jumping like a dream at the moment. Can’t believe it’s my last year already. My head’s full of dissertation! How are you, then?”

“Alright.”

“Oh good, I’m glad to hear it. Are you still planning to -”

“What d’you want, Will?” Jimmy interrupted hastily, pushing off the bed and pacing over to the window.

“Well, just to chat, really. Cold at the moment, isn’t it?”

Jimmy scowled at the frosty, drizzly evening outside. “It’s November, what do you expect?”

“I expect it to be cold, so I’m not disappointed! Hey, are you still running that taxi?”

“Yeah, I am.” Jimmy said, locating his wallet. Before Will had rung, he had been on his way out to the supermarket; he was nearly out of cigarettes, bread and toilet paper.

“Oh, well done.”

“When are you next coming home, then?” Jimmy shut the door behind him and waited for the lift.

“Christmas. Only six weeks to go! Won’t be much of a break, though, I’ve got exams as soon as I get back so I’ll have to revise the whole time. Do you want to meet up one day, when I’m back?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Text me in a few weeks, right? I’ve got to go now.”

“Okay, I will. Talk to you soon then, Jimmy!”

“See ya.” Jimmy hung up as he stepped out of the lift, and stuffed his phone in his coat pocket. He hated November. He hated the cold. He hated how everyone he knew kept asking and asking and _asking_ about when he was going to university. He just _couldn’t_ at the moment.

To avoid the drizzle, Jimmy turned left to keep to the covered walkway. He hunched into his coat and almost didn’t notice the shape lying in the corner.

But he did.

And it was Thomas.

“Thomas!” he exclaimed; Thomas slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. “You came back, does that mean you forgive me?”

“I’m not here for _you_ ,” Thomas snapped. He was shivering violently. “It’s just warm here.”

“ _Warm?_ It’s freezing!”

“It’s ou’ of the wind, anyway.”

Jimmy stared at him, horrified. Thomas avoided his gaze. “Are you homeless?”

“No,” Thomas said miserably. “I jus’ di’n’t want to go home.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because my dad’s a piece of _shit_ ,” Thomas spat, rubbing his left forearm protectively.

Suddenly, it all became clear; Jimmy saw what he had missed, and the urge to pull Thomas into his arms was as overwhelming as it was unexpected. “Did he hurt you?” he asked as gently as he could.

Thomas pushed his face into his hands and didn’t say anything.

“Look,” Jimmy began awkwardly after a moment. “I’m sorry about the other day, I am, really. I get... I get like that, sometimes. I’m trying not to. I didn’t mean to, you know, say all that. I - Do you want to come in? I won’t be horrible, I promise, but you can’t stay out here all night.”

“I’ve done it before,” Thomas retorted stubbornly, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Please, Thomas,” Jimmy said quietly. “Just come up so you can be somewhere warm. I’ll make you some tea this time.”

“I’ll be alright.”

Jimmy crouched down in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder; Thomas flinched but at last looked at Jimmy’s face. “You know it’s better to be up in the warm than down here. Even if it is only my shithole flat. At least I’ve got radiators.”

For a few breaths, Thomas just looked at him. “Okay,” he said at last.

Jimmy’s face broke into a smile; he straightened his legs and offered his hand to help Thomas up.

“Why are you always out here in the middle of the night?” Thomas asked as they made their way back up to Jimmy’s flat.

“It’s when I’m awake,” Jimmy shrugged. “My mum used to say I’m a night owl. It comes in handy for ferrying drunk people about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve got a taxi. It’s my dad’s old car. I only get this crap little allowance from my parents so I need the money.” They thought he would squander it all if they left him a lump sum, so they had set up a meagre monthly allowance. He would have preferred to have his parents, even though they had driven him up the wall.

The thought made him wonder just how bad Thomas’s parents had to be for him to prefer sleeping out in the cold to going home. Jimmy had spent countless evenings ‘running about the city at all hours’, as his dad had always put it, but he had always had a house to return to at the end - whether that was his own or that of one of his mates. But he had always known that he _could_ have gone home.

“Where do you live?” Jimmy asked, curiously.

“Hill Street,” Thomas said mechanically.

Jimmy knew it; he knew most places in this city. It was a good 25 minute walk away, so Thomas must be freezing.

As they got inside, Jimmy asked: “Do you want anything to eat? Or a jumper or something?”

“Look, could we... just not make this a big deal? Just pretend I’m a normal guest.” He smiled ruefully. “But, actually, a shower would be great.”

“You _are_ a normal guest,” Jimmy said. “Don’t think I’d invite just anyone up here. The shower’s in there, I think there’s a spare towel in there somewhere.”

Thomas thanked him and disappeared into the cramped bathroom, which was on the left wall next to the kitchen area. Jimmy made two mugs of tea and used his last four slices of bread to make dry toast; he had run out of margarine. He tried very hard not to think about naked Thomas in the next room.

Jimmy put the tea and toast on the table, feeling embarrassed for the first time that he did not have so much as a chair, never mind a sofa. He sat sipping his tea until he heard the water shut off.

When Thomas came out, he had the towel around his hips and was wearing his coat; judging from the chest hair peeking out above the zip, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “My clothes are damp,” he said. “Could I borrow something?”

“’Course,” Jimmy agreed. “And since you’re a normal guest, am I allowed to tell you that you’re still really hot?”

Thomas smirked. “I think I could allow that.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic used to be called 'Architect' but it was only ever a temporary name and I finally came up with something better.

Two weeks later, Jimmy awoke with a smile on his face for the first time in two years. Thomas had stayed with him several more times over the last fortnight, and they had been for a drink together a couple of times, too. Thomas was good company, though he still flinched if Jimmy touched him unexpectedly. But then, Jimmy flinched sometimes, as well.

Jimmy rolled over onto his front and saw that the day was bright and crisp. It was 1:30pm already. He started drawing the front elevation of a hotel in his rapidly-filling sketchbook then, later, he got a call, and spent an hour taking some old ladies out to the park. After that, Philip Crowborough booked him to take him home from his mother’s nursing home. Jimmy had driven Philip two or three times before. He was a pretentious but apparently harmless man who always told Jimmy to keep the change of whatever he handed over. Jimmy didn’t like him much.

They greeted each other as Philip climbed inside the car.

“What are you doing these days?” Jimmy asked. “Finished your course yet?”

“Yes, yes,” Philip replied eagerly. “I’m officially an architect!”

“Congratulations,” Jimmy said dully, awash with jealousy. “Have you found a job yet?”

“I have, yes. I’m working at your dad’s company. Er - sorry - you know what I mean.”

Jimmy did know what he meant. The company that had used to belong to Jimmy’s dad. Eventually, Jimmy would inherit it, but for now... for now it was Anstruther’s. Which was why he was playing at civility when the very sight of her made him want to vomit. _(You’ll never do anything without your parents.)_

 _Don’t think about that,_ Jimmy told himself. _Not now._

“So you’ve moved back here?” he said, just to move the conversation on.

“Yes, I’m back in the house where I grew up. It’s very strange to be living there without my parents. Even now, I watch schoolkids walking past the windows and for a moment I think I should be going to school!”

Jimmy did not bother to reply, and after a moment Philip reached over to turn the radio up. Jimmy resisted the urge to turn it down again.

“Maybe I should get a roommate,” Philip mused, almost to himself. “Or just be a bit better at holding on to boyfriends.”

Jimmy quietly processed the fact that Philip was gay, like him, as well as being an architect, like he wanted to be. It did nothing to mitigate his jealousy.

Indicating to turn on to Philip’s street, it crossed Jimmy’s mind that the very next road over was Hill Street, where Thomas lived. He wondered if Philip knew him, and was a breath away from asking, but he wanted to keep Thomas to himself.

Once he had dropped Philip off, Jimmy swung around to Hill Street. He wasn’t sure why; he did not know which number Thomas lived in.

The houses here were terraced and narrow, of a traditional two-up-two-down design, by the look of them. Jimmy drove past them slowly, with a hazy, illogical idea that he might just _know_ which was Thomas’s house. However, as he was driving along, he saw something better than Thomas’s house - he saw Thomas, walking along the road. Hastily, Jimmy found a parking space and squeezed the car in, almost hitting the car in front in his attempt to keep one eye on Thomas. It paid off; he saw Thomas pull out his keys and turn into number 36. Jimmy jumped out of the car just as Thomas closed his front door, and followed.

It was only after Jimmy had knocked on the door that he wondered what on earth he was doing. Thomas would think he had been stalking him.

Before he could convince himself to leave, Thomas opened the door.

“Hello,” Thomas said. Luckily, he was smiling. “You’ve got good timing. I’ve only just got back from work.” He frowned a little. “How did you even know where I live?”

Jimmy decided to brazen it out and pretend there was nothing unusual about it at all. “I just dropped someone off, I was passing and saw you walking home. Thought I’d come and say hi.”

“Ah, right...” Thomas was rubbing the doorframe with his thumb. There was a pinched look beginning to take over his features. “My parents are home, but... I suppose you should come in.”

As he backed off, Jimmy came forward and stepped over the threshold into Thomas’s living room. There was an armchair in the window and two two-seater sofas surrounding the TV that was mounted above the gas fireplace; against the wall to the next room was a small dining table with four chairs. There was nobody in there, but as Jimmy hung his coat on one of the hooks by the door, he could hear talking from the next room.

“Come upstairs,” Thomas murmured. “Or we’ll have to share a living room with them.”

Jimmy followed him across the room and through into the kitchen. An undercurrent of fear was thrumming in his veins. He was beginning to think that this had been a terrible idea.

“Who is it, Thomas?” a woman asked as they passed into the kitchen.

Thomas introduced Jimmy to his mum. She was a short woman with grey eyes and pale skin like Thomas; her black hair was tied back in a low ponytail.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jimmy,” she said with a smile, and offered her hand for him to shake.

Jimmy was reminded forcibly of bear traps, waiting for him to put out his arm before snapping closed around it. _It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine_ , he told himself, and managed to shake her hand.

“And I’m Thomas’s dad,” said the slim, greying man who had been opening a frozen pizza.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Barrow,” Jimmy said robotically.

“We’re going upstairs,” Thomas told his parents, gripping Jimmy by the elbow to prompt him to follow him up the narrow stairs from the kitchen.

“Leave the door open,” his mum instructed.

“I’m twenty-five and I know how a condom works,” Thomas retorted fiercely - under his breath, not loud enough for her to hear.

Jimmy could not help but laugh.

At the top of the stairs, a door ahead of them led to a double-bedroom, presumably Thomas’s parents’. Thomas took him left, into a small bedroom containing a single bed with a wardrobe at the foot and a desk on the other wall. Thomas waved a hand at the bed to direct Jimmy to sit, and moved the desk chair up to the window to give him space to spin it round and sit facing Jimmy.

“What do your parents do?” Jimmy asked, taking the cigarette Thomas offered and letting him light it.

“Dad’s just lost his job. Mum does admin in a doctor’s surgery. Your parents were architects, weren’t they?”

“Um, yeah. How...”

“You’re called Kent, you have a scrapbook full of buildings and I work a few streets away from Kent Architects. I guessed.”

“You’ve seen my scrapbook?” It was one of many, in fact, that Jimmy had been filling ever since he was young with photographs, magazine pages and his own drawings.

“You’ve left it open on your table a few times and... Yes, I looked. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No... I guess not. Are you parents alright with you being gay, then?”

Thomas pulled a face. “Yeah. They don’t give a toss. Yours?”

Thomas’s description seemed too harsh, somehow. “They were fine with it.”

“Thomas!” shouted his dad from downstairs.

Thomas stilled. “Yes?” he called back.

“Is your friend staying for dinner?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows at Jimmy in question.

Jimmy was loath to spend too much time with Thomas’s parents, but he wanted to see Thomas. “Okay, thanks.”

Thomas answered his dad in the affirmative. “Mary had the right idea,” he said to Jimmy, rubbing his eyes. “Got herself pregnant and moved in with her fiance. Shame I can’t do that.”

“Why don’t you move out?” Jimmy asked, baffled by why he would stay.

“I can’t afford it,” Thomas said, shrugging helplessly. “I could only get a part-time job and my parents have my wages for rent and bills.”

“What, _all_ of it?”

Thomas shrugged again, avoiding Jimmy’s gaze by looking out of the window at the back of the house opposite. “I’ve got a business degree and I work in sodding Topshop,” he muttered.

Jimmy did not know what to say, so instead he leaned in and kissed Thomas gently. Thomas reciprocated, so Jimmy thought he must have done the right thing, and they spent long minutes exchanging comfort. Their breaths huffed quietly in the silent room. The angle was a little strange, with the bed being higher than Thomas’s chair, but it did not matter when Thomas trailed one hand all the way from Jimmy’s temple, down his cheek, and over his neck.

“Boys!” Thomas’s mum shouted. “Come downstairs and wash up!”

As they broke away, Jimmy grimaced in anticipation of spending a meal with Thomas’s parents. They might appear perfectly pleasant and charming, but Jimmy was thoroughly unnerved by them. Thomas never spoke about them hurting him, but frequently when Jimmy took some article of clothing off him, there would be another mark on his skin.

“They’re not always this nice,” Thomas said quietly, looking down at his hands.

Jimmy kissed him soothingly on the forehead as he stood up. “I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jimmy’s phone screen lit up.

**8:33am**

⚞ **Anstruther calling⚟**

**[Answer] / [Hang up]**

♫ _Same door for them to break out_  
♫ _Go ahead but there's a price to pay_  
♫ _Let the feeling that you like her_  
♫ _‘Til the night don't recognize itself_

Thomas stirred and tightened his arms around Jimmy. Jimmy lay frozen, his eyes fixed on the screen.

_I don’t have to pick up. I don’t have to pick up. I don’t have to pick up._

**8:34am**

⚞ **Anstruther calling⚟**

**[Answer] / [Hang up]**

♫ _Everybody grab their person_  
♫ _For once you need to take control_  
♫ _Clear the dance floor, see your reflection_  
♫ _Couldn't tell you what you already know_

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Thomas murmured, kissing Jimmy’s shoulderblade.

Jimmy could not speak; he only stared at the phone with his heart getting faster and faster until the ringtone stopped.

He had done it. He had ignored Anstruther. But he could not feel any sense of victory, only a deep-seated feeling of nausea. What would she do? Would she be angry? Maybe he could say he was in the shower and did not hear it.

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah. Get out and make me some breakfast.”

He rolled over to watch Thomas climb out of bed. Anstruther would kill him for not picking up. As Thomas reached for his boxers, Jimmy ordered: “Do it naked.”

“Jimmy...” Thomas turned, his eyes pleading.

Jimmy fixed him with an unwavering look. “Toast and jam,” he said. “Do it.”

Again, Thomas reached for his boxers, uncertainly.

“I said no,” Jimmy stated flatly.

Frowning, Thomas abandoned his clothes and turned to do as Jimmy said.

Jimmy watched him fill the kettle with relief. He was okay. He was in charge. He was safe.

He tried to ignore the voice in his head that said it wouldn’t last.

Jimmy noticed a new mark on the back of Thomas’s neck. It was dark pink and circular, a sickly almost-yellow in the middle, as though someone had put out a cigarette just below the line of his collar.

“What happened to your neck?” Jimmy asked, just as Thomas was putting bread in the toaster.

“I was smoking in the living room,” Thomas said dully, without turning around. “Mum caught me. My own fault, really.”

Jimmy was dumbfounded. How could it be Thomas’s fault that his mum had hurt him? But it was clear from Thomas’s defeated tone that he believed it. Everything they did to him, and he still believed that any of it could be his fault. “Have you thought of getting counselling?”

“You think I’m messed up?” Thomas asked, pouring boiling water into two mugs.

“I think your parents are messed up and they’ve been telling you a load of crap that you believe and need to deal with,” Jimmy retorted. “They’re messing with your head. They’re hurting you and you’re just accepting it.”

“Because I _can’t move out._ ”

“Because they’re taking all your money!”

Thomas said nothing as he spread jam onto two pieces of toast and crashed the plate down on the table.

Jimmy started to panic. He had upset Thomas now, too. He could feel his heart pulsing in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got to go,” Thomas announced in a strained voice. “Like I told you, Mary’s getting married this afternoon.”

_(You can only go if you fuck me.)_

“Go away then,” Jimmy snapped, squeezing the the pillow in both hands. Thomas was leaving and he wanted him here.

_(You can only go if you fuck me.)_

But Jimmy wouldn’t say it.

“Sometimes I feel like you really couldn’t care less about me,” Thomas said. “Are we even in a relationship?” he demanded.

“Get lost,” Jimmy scoffed, as though the idea was ridiculous; because he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do relationships, he would ruin it. Thomas would abandon him or Jimmy would hurt him. “We’re just fucking, we’re nothing.”

“Right,” Thomas intoned, his hand drifting up to run through his hair and more than anything Jimmy wanted to follow the path with his own fingers. “This is it, then, we’re over, whatever the hell this is.”

Jimmy stared at him, still naked in the middle of the room.

“I want better,” Thomas continued. “I still want to be your friend, I do, really, but I can’t do this any more, I just can’t.”

As Thomas pulled on his clothes, Jimmy could only watch, open-mouthed, his breath coming too fast, but he couldn’t stop Thomas from leaving -

_(You’re not leaving until you fuck me.)_

\- as much as he might (and did) want to.

When Thomas stood, fully dressed, he put his hands on his hips and said: “If my advice means anything to you, Jimmy, I think you're the one who needs counselling. I don’t know what you’re dealing with but there’s obviously something going on.”

“Just fuck off and leave me alone,” Jimmy hissed.

He felt no satisfaction as Thomas acquiesced.

He did not leave his bed until nightfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man you're gonna hate me for this chapter. There will be fluff eventually, I promise!
> 
> Jimmy's ringtone is Shadows by Hot Since ‘82 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qOtZmsfREY8)


	6. Chapter 6

It was always tricky to park at the cemetery where Jimmy’s parents were buried, so when he went to visit them the day after his break-up with Thomas, Jimmy took the bus as usual. On the way, he texted Thomas.

**I know we’re not together but you can still stay over if you want. I’ll get an airbed or something. My flat’s horrible but you’re welcome to it.**

He waited, watching buildings trundling past and people on pre-Christmas shopping trips getting on or off the bus. As usual, by the time they reached the university, there were only two types of people remaining on the bus: students and mourners. It was easy to tell the difference: the students were younger and louder, while the mourners often carried flowers and rarely lifted their eyes from their knees.

As Jimmy glanced around, a elderly woman nodded to him understandingly. Jimmy gave an awkward smile and wondered how she could tell that he was not a student; he carried no flowers, and was the same age as the students behind him. It suddenly made him feel very old, when he had always before felt very young and small.

When he got off the bus outside the cemetery, Jimmy’s phone buzzed. He lunged for it at once, thinking that it might be Thomas - but it was Will.

**Hey Jimmy! I’ll be home next week, are you free on Wednesday afternoon?**

Jimmy texted him an affirmative before turning off his phone as he walked through the cemetery gates. He left the old lady behind, walking faster than her along the concrete path. It was still dry, though the sky was close and grey overhead as Jimmy strode up the hill across the wide grounds with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets against the cold. The route was well-known to Jimmy; he had been here numerous times since his parents had died. His dad had been killed in a site collapse at a building he was renovating and his mum, only six weeks later, had died of a heart attack. She had not even made it to hospital.

Upon reaching his parents’ graves, Jimmy put a hand on each of them in turn. “Hey, mum,” he murmured. “Hey, dad.”

He was not comfortable talking to his parents as though they were there, as he so often saw people do in films, so he retreated to the bench on the other side of the path to think and reminisce.

_I miss you,_ he thought. _God knows I hated you sometimes but I loved you too. Still remember when you caught me graffitiing that bridge and everyone else pissed off without telling me so it was just me standing there with a can in my hand, halfway through spraying my name._

He wondered what Thomas’s dad would have done if he had caught Thomas doing graffiti. He was not sure that Thomas would have survived it.

At the thought of Thomas, Jimmy’s gloom increased. Meeting Thomas was the best thing to have happened to Jimmy since getting his exam results and realising that he had enough to get onto the architecture course he had wanted - but that, after all, had been curbed by his grief - and yet Jimmy had ruined it.

_You messed me up good and proper,_ he told them, in his head. _You dying, that is. I thought everything was going to be alright, but then you died and nothing was and nothing is and I’ve ruined everything I’ve touched, just like Anstruther said. I can’t do anything without you._

Dejectedly, Jimmy bowed his head for a while and thought about his parents and how they might have reacted to meeting Thomas. Mum would have thought him rude, he decided, but dad would have liked him. They would have talked about cricket and maybe his dad would have known how to help Thomas. And yet they would never meet him. They would never meet any of Jimmy’s boyfriends.

Turning his phone back on, he turned the question around - how would Thomas have reacted to meeting Jimmy’s parents? He would probably think they were snooty and full of themselves. For a moment, Jimmy was almost ashamed of his own relative wealth, even though he had no access to it as yet. He would not have any access to the money generated from his ownership of the company until he was 25, and he could not have any say in managing it until he had a degree - until then, Anstruther was in charge, and would have to sign a confirmation to say that he could take over. The will had not specified a particular degree; Jimmy suspected that they were just trying to ensure he did one.

His phone buzzed.

**You know how I live and you still devalue what you have. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to live as you choose? But... thank you. I may take you up on it.**

It echoed Jimmy’s own thoughts of a moment before so acutely that Jimmy felt his face grow hot, even though there was no one there to see him. A moment later, another text arrived.

**You know, you’re kinder than you give yourself credit for.**

Sitting alone in an empty graveyard, Jimmy wept. He cried for his parents. He cried for Thomas. He cried for the situation he found himself in. But mostly, he cried for the chasm he could see between who he was and who Thomas saw in him.


	7. Chapter 7

For eight days, Jimmy did not leave his flat except for taxi jobs. After five days, he ran out of food, and resorted to takeaways for every meal. He could not face being outside in the noise and the cold and the Christmas lights. Thomas did not visit or stay over. Jimmy missed him so fiercely he could barely concentrate. He found himself drawing cottages and flats for him, thinking always _This is where you could be safe_ , but when Thomas texted him to suggest a drink Jimmy could not bring himself to reply.

Another day, another drive, just before Jimmy went to meet Will. Today the call came from Philip. Again, he wanted to be picked up from his mum’s nursing home, but this time he was going into the city centre.

“I’ve got a date,” Philip explained as they drove along.

Jimmy’s jaw felt gummed together.

“This lovely guy I knew in school. We went out for a little while, actually, but I wasn’t out at the time and he didn’t want to be a secret. Well, fair enough, I suppose, and I understand that now, but I hated him for it at the time.”

Jimmy hummed in acknowledgement, a sound that was probably lost under the drone of the engine. Philip often kept talking whether Jimmy answered him or not.

“I haven’t seen him for... well, seven years, I suppose,” Philip continued after a minute or two. “Not since I started my undergraduate degree... And then, just yesterday, I was coming out of work and there he was. I recognised him straight away; just had to take him to lunch... He hasn’t changed much.”

Jimmy made another noncommittal noise as they turned onto the last street, where the restaurant Philip was going to was situated.

“Oh, there he is,” Philip said, smiling a little, his eyes fixed on someone on the pavement.

Jimmy could not tell who he was looking at, so Philip directed him when to stop. While Philip was taking out his wallet, Jimmy let his gaze wander to the people. There was the usual throng of early Christmas parties, shoppers, and people who had left work early or sneaked out for a long lunch, but there was one defining element: Thomas was there.

Jimmy went cold all over, overtaken by the horrible idea that _Thomas_ was Philip’s date.

Numbly, he accepted Philip’s payment, never taking his eyes from Thomas’s pale face. Philip got out of the car, slammed the door. Thomas spotted him, half-smiled, and made his way over. Oh _God_ , it was true.

Philip gripped Thomas’s hand and kissed him on the cheek. Thomas seemed to notice what car he had just exited, and ducked his head as though he was having trouble seeing through the windscreen.

Jimmy snapped his eyes away, clenching his jaw, and screeched off without indicating or even checking that the road was clear. A car blared its horn at him. Jimmy couldn’t handle it. _Philip_ and _Thomas_. Jimmy had lost him. How had one person knocked Jimmy’s whole world off-kilter, again? Everything was spiralling and Jimmy did not know what to do.

His hands were shaking so violently he thought he would crash, but he managed to pull into the multi-storey and park up without incident. When the car was quiet, Jimmy dropped his head back against the headrest and tried to get a grip on himself. A date was nothing. They had not seen each other in seven years; they might not even like each other. _But what if they do?_

He took deep breaths. Eventually, he found the equilibrium to get a ticket for the car and make his way downstairs in the lift. His hands were restless, fiddling with the car keys or running through his hair. He did not know if he could pretend to Will that everything was normal.

_What’s wrong with me?_

Soon, Jimmy turned into the pub at which he had agreed to meet Will. It was noisy, crowded and hot; just the environment for filling Jimmy’s head with something other than Thomas. He found Will at a table by the wall and tried to smile as he sat next to him on the bench.

“Hello Jimmy!” Will said at once, with a much wider smile. “It’s great to see you, it’s been too long. How are you?”

“Fine,” Jimmy lied. It was easier than saying _Everything feels wrong and I don’t know how to put it right._ “You?”

“Great. We used Errol in our lesson again the other day.”

“Yeah?” Will, unlike Philip, required input to keep him talking, or he would think Jimmy was bored of him.

“It was a massage lesson -”

“Massage? For horses?” Jimmy said skeptically, snatching at the chance to think about something else.

“Yeah, it helps their muscles heal from exercise or if they’ve had an injury. It’s really interesting. It increases blood flow and removes the toxins in the lymph system.”

“Oh, right.” What would Thomas be doing now? They would probably be sipping drinks and waiting for their food by now. “How’s the dissertation?” he asked desperately.

“It’s very stressful,” Will admitted. “You need paperwork and permission slips for _everything_ and then every time I want the thermal camera, someone’s booked it out - what -”

Jimmy had grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, hard. If he could not stop Thomas leaving, he needed - he needed to be in control of _something_. Will was taller and more muscular than Jimmy but Jimmy had to know he could be in control.

Will pushed at his chest but Jimmy dug his fingers into Will’s neck, kissed him so forcefully that his head was thrust back against the wall.

_It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re in control -_

Jimmy found himself jerked away. Will had shoved his chest so roughly that the table slammed against his back.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Will demanded, still holding him at arm’s length. “I was pushing you off, you must have noticed.”

Jimmy stared at the confusion in Will’s face and felt the world contract around him. What _was_ he doing? Will was straight and Jimmy had not been attracted to him for years. He was not even attracted to him now, he had just needed something to stop the panic that was crawling up his throat.

“Jimmy?” Will’s grip on him became more gentle. “What’s going on, mate?”

Jimmy crumpled. He turned away and hid his face in his hands, curling forwards against the table, and sobbed. He had done it _again_ ; he had tried to control someone when so much felt uncontrollable. “I’m sorry,” he moaned into his hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t - I don’t...”

“What’s the matter?” Will asked. “Only you’ve been acting funny ever since your parents died. I know it’s awful, but this is just weird. I don’t know what’s happening to you.”

Jimmy stayed silent until he could breathe almost normally again, then lifted his face from the table. He must have looked awful, red-eyed and with tears running down his cheeks. His face always went blotchy when he cried. “Would you do something for me?”

“Yeah,” Will agreed at once, but he looked a little uneasy.

“Will you - Will you come to the doctor with me?”

Will clapped him on the shoulder, looking relieved. “’Course I will, mate.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn you that this chapter and the next is where the main discussion about rape comes in.

Within a week, Jimmy had a therapist. Will went with him to the doctor, shooting him anxious glances all the while. Jimmy asked for an emergency appointment, in which the doctor listened to his pleading and tapped on her keyboard and eventually referred him to a clinic down the road that Jimmy had never been aware of until then. He was glad not to have seen Thomas’s mum in the surgery.

Jimmy’s first appointment was for the following Tuesday, only three days before Christmas, thanks to a cancellation. Will went home with him and did some food shopping for him before he left. Will also offered to go with him to the therapist but Jimmy decided to go alone.

The therapist, Lloyd, had short, dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes. Jimmy spent the first half hour sharing memories about his parents and the last half hour sharing memories about Thomas. His words came so fast that Lloyd barely had time to ask questions, never mind offer advice; and yet by the time he had finished, Jimmy felt as though he had extracted a huge pressure from inside his head and laid it on the floor for Lloyd to examine.

“Well, Jimmy,” Lloyd said at the end. “It seems to me that you’ve got more that you’d like to talk about, so if you feel that we’ve got on well I suggest you make another appointment with the receptionist.”

“I will,” Jimmy told him decisively as he stood up. He felt hopeful, at last, at long, long last.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Jimmy was woken by a number of texts wishing him happy Christmas; Alfred, Ivy, Will and Daisy had all sent him one. Thomas’s came while he was eating a bowl of cereal.

**Happy Christmas, Jimmy. X**

Three words, and yet they did more to put Jimmy in the Christmas spirit than any of the Christmas lights or half-heard Christmas songs had done. It was his name that had done it. Many of the other texts had clearly been sent to everyone in the person’s contact list - and Jimmy did not fault them for that, but there was something special about thinking that Thomas had texted him especially.

 _I miss you_ , he thought. For a moment he considered telling Thomas that he had started having counselling - but it seemed something that should wait, until after Christmas.

**Happy Christmas to you too. Hope you have a good day.**

Jimmy had not made too much effort for Christmas - he had no tree or decorations, and had no plans to bother with a Christmas dinner - but he had mince pies, and he spent the day flicking between Christmas films on the TV and texting intermittantly with friends. Will sent a photo that he took especially for Jimmy of his massive clan holding their glasses aloft; Alfred complained about his sister; Daisy said it was a shame that she could not visit Sybil, the girl from university whom Daisy had been crushing on for weeks and finally asked on a date.

In the afternoon, Daisy surprised him by turning up for an hour with presents (body spray and a pair of dark green gloves) and a tub of ice cream. Before she left, she hugged him, and Jimmy closed his eyes and relaxed into the embrace for as long as she would let him.

Thomas did not text again until Jimmy was brushing his teeth for bed.

**Do you thiik there’s a anti santa how takes presents instead of leaving then?**

Jimmy snorted at how obvious it was that Thomas was drunk. This impression was not helped by the text that followed.

**OH maybe thats Satan like santa satn or a satan santa who gets your toys**

Jimmy’s heart suddenly felt too small to contain the affection that was rushing through him.

**Sounds more fun than being normal Santa.**

No reply was forthcoming, and Jimmy drifted gently into sleep.

* * *

Jimmy returned for his second therapy session, and managed to talk about what had happened with Will, which had prompted him to make the appointment in the first place, and what had happened with Thomas. Towards the end of the session, Lloyd said: “It sounds as though you’re afraid of losing control, but very uncomfortable with what you do to feel as though you’re back in control. Is that something you’d agree with?”

Jimmy fidgeted with his hands and couldn’t meet Lloyd’s eyes. It was a relief for Lloyd to be so close to the truth, but terrifying to think that Jimmy would have to talk about it. “I suppose,” he whispered.

“Can you think of something in your past that might have triggered those feelings?”

Looking up sharply, Jimmy took in Lloyd’s bland expression. Nevertheless, behind it, Jimmy thought that Lloyd knew more than he was saying; he just wanted to hear Jimmy say it. The panic started rising. “Not now,” he choked out. “Don’t - don’t make me...”

“That’s fine, Jimmy,” Lloyd said calmly. “You can always choose what you want to share and when. It might be a good idea to think about it over the next week and see if you feel comfortable talking about it in our next session. But if you choose not to, that’s fine too.”

Feeling foolish, Jimmy nodded. He knew this was the root; he knew this was why he was here. But now that he _was_ here, he could not fathom possibly mentioning it. Having to re-live it, to think about it, to tell Lloyd how weak he was.

The panic started crawling up his throat and his stomach flooded with nausea. Abruptly, Jimmy stood up. “I have to go.”

Lloyd glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’re free to, of course, but there are another 10 minutes of the session left, if you want to use them.”

_(You can only go if you fuck me.)_

“Didn’t you _hear_ me, I have to _go_ ,” Jimmy snarled - and stopped. He stood breathing through his mouth, unable to speak, lost. “Um...”

“You’re free to leave whenever you want to,” Lloyd repeated. “Nobody will stop you.”

“Yes,” Jimmy acknowledged. He felt dizzy. “I’m going to go,” he said.

“See you next week then, Jimmy.”

Jimmy walked out, a little wobbly because he was not sure where his feet were.

Still nobody except Will knew that he was even going to therapy. Again, that week, he thought of telling Thomas - he had stayed over one night that week - but was too afraid that Thomas might ask why. Might think him silly for needing it.

He spent a lot of time thinking about how he would put what had happened into words, but by the time he arrived at the session he still had no idea.

Lloyd was obviously trying to put him at ease, by starting with: “What did you do this week?”

“Some more taxi jobs,” Jimmy mumbled, picking at the sleeve of his jumper until it was almost bare. “Drove Philip again. Him and Thomas aren’t together any more, don’t know why. I think... I want to tell him, one day, what happened, so he knows why I’m so horrible sometimes, but I don’t know how.”

“We can work on that together,” Lloyd said.

“Right...” Jimmy picked at his sleeve some more. Lloyd waited without saying anything. Jimmy tried to sort his scattered memories into words. “When... When my parents died... They had this friend, well, uh... They trusted her with everything, she’s managing the company and she has to say when I can take over.” His heart was pounding. “And it was after they both died...” It was too hard, but at the same time so easy that Jimmy began to fear the whole story was no longer his own, and could fall out of his mouth at any time and with anyone.

Lloyd just waited patiently for Jimmy to continue.

“I went to see her, mum and dad always treated her like she was my aunt and - well, so, I wanted to see her, I suppose.” He had been so lonely. His real auntie Sam lived in Scotland; she and his cousins had come down for the day of the funeral, but then they had left and everyone who knew his parents was gone. Everyone except for Anstruther. It had made him feel - unreal, almost. As though someone had just made him up.

“Would you say you were looking for comfort?”

“Yeah... Only... she wanted to... When I’d been there a bit, she said she wanted to have - have - have sex with me. And, but, she was like my aunt, and I didn’t want to, so I was going to go. I wanted to go. But she said I - she wouldn’t let me until I’d done it.” He felt his throat closing up, tears coming to the corners of his eyes. His voice was rough and broken with tears - “She wouldn’t let me, I couldn’t stop her. I didn’t want to. Sh-She wouldn’t let me leave until I had sex with her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’ve never had a therapist but I am at least 90% sure that you wouldn’t be able to get a first appointment so quickly. I also cannot vouch for the veracity of anything Lloyd says. But, ya know, fiction.


	9. Chapter 9

From then on, Jimmy worked on leaving the event behind him, and freeing himself from its effects. Lloyd helped him to practice being out of control, first with simple things like letting Daisy or Will cook for him, building up to them taking him somewhere he had not been before but that they knew well.

He also worked on managing his feelings of panic, so that when he was in a scary situation he knew how to deal with it without feeling as though he had to control everything and everyone.

By the end of February, he felt as though he had begun to heal. He felt... more open, instead of folding into himself to stop the edges being snapped off or scratching someone else. Those edges were softening now.

Will was back at university, but he called twice a week to ask after Jimmy and how his sessions were going. Daisy was still with Sybil, and they started to bring him baking leftovers from the cooking class they had begun to attend together.

He was seeing Thomas frequently again, much to his continuing relief. He had worried that Thomas had not been serious about being his friend - but it seemed he was. It hurt to be around him sometimes; Jimmy _wanted_ him so badly but was so ashamed of how he had treated him, and so afraid that he would do it again if he panicked. It was an odd feeling, when the rest of the time it felt so easy and so _right_ to be around him.

Thomas had been growing his hair, just on a whim. He had not told his parents yet, and they had not noticed; but Jimmy saw.

Jimmy had bought a chair the week before, which Thomas lounged in right beside the bed so they could watch the TV on the table. Jimmy found himself watching Thomas more than the screen: his jaw, coloured with five o’clock shadow; the curve of his ear; the splay of his dark eyelashes, just visible; the soft-looking hair on the back of his head.

Possibilities crowded Jimmy’s mind. The fact that he knew how it felt to kiss Thomas only made the desperation for it worse. His desire for contact drew his fingertips to caress the back of Thomas’s neck. Thomas tensed instantly, and Jimmy froze, his fingers a whisper away from touching. And then, Thomas relaxed again, very deliberately, as though he had let it all out with his breath. The movement brought their skin back into contact.

“Do you mind?” Jimmy breathed.

“No,” Thomas replied.

“It’s okay if you want me to stop,” Jimmy told him, because Lloyd had said that Thomas might find it difficult to say no to things if he thought it was what Jimmy wanted.

“I don’t want you to stop.” Thomas leaned further into the ghost of a touch, so Jimmy dragged his fingers through the errant hair at Thomas’s nape, letting them wander further, to graze the downy skin at the back of his neck. The cigarette burn was half-hidden by his collar, but he could just see the edge of it. It was a small round dent in his skin, now; a little pink and sore but no longer as raw as it had been the first time Jimmy had seen it.

“You know, your hair sticks out at the back,” Jimmy told him.

Instinctively, it seemed, Thomas’s hand crept up to feel his hair, and for a moment their fingers overlapped. A jolt of electricity sparked between them as their fingers entangled. Thomas was not quick to move his hand. “Does it look silly?”

“Ridiculous,” Jimmy said honestly, still pushing his fingers through it. “I like it. It’s cute.”

He watched Thomas’s cheek becoming pink and skated his fingertips around to feel the warmth in his skin. There was a heavy feeling in Jimmy’s stomach as Thomas turned his head minutely into the caress.

But Jimmy closed his eyes, managed to pull his hands away from Thomas’s skin, though it was harder than it should have been. He had promised himself not to get too close until he had told Thomas everything. He wanted Thomas to have the choice, knowing everything, understanding as much as he could. If nothing else, Jimmy felt that he deserved to know why Jimmy had turned on him that day. For that reason, he wedged his hands under his thighs and said: “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Thomas replied, his voice a little hoarse.

“Turn the telly off,” he requested first; he knew he would not be able to say this loudly, and he did not want to have to repeat anything.

Thomas switched off the TV and turned the chair around to face him.

“I took your advice,” Jimmy began, letting his eyes drift all over Thomas’s face. The hair on his top lip always regrew faster than the rest of his beard; he could grow a fantastic moustache, if he felt the urge. An image of Thomas with an elaborate handlebar moustache came into Jimmy’s head, and he had a hysterical compulsion to laugh. “About the counselling.”

Thomas blinked. “You did?”

“Yeah. You were right, about... there being something going on.”

Thomas’s eyes were coloured with sympathy, giving Jimmy the courage to carry on.

“After my parents died, I went to see Anstruther. She’s... She _was_ like an auntie to me. So after mum’s funeral, I wanted to see her, you know, like the closest thing I had to my parents.” He bowed his head now, fixing his eyes on the lower button of Thomas’s grey polo shirt.

Slowly, Thomas reached out and placed his hand on Jimmy’s knee, offering unspoken support for the words to come.

“It was okay to start with, but then she said that...” He felt his spine curving down. “She said that she wanted us to have sex. I didn’t want to but when I tried to leave, she made me do it.”

Thomas drew in a sharp breath, his grip tightening on Jimmy’s knee. His fingertips pressed in almost uncomfortably.

“She wouldn’t let me leave until we’d done it, so the other week when you said you had to go, and I was already stressed because that phone call was from her and I ignored it, so I thought she’d be angry with me... She didn't even do anything, in the end... You said you had to go and I just wanted to keep you so badly. Not - not _keep_ you,” he amended clumsily; it seemed too intense a phrase. “Just, I wasn’t really ready for you to go.” He felt his cheeks heating up. “But I was, scared, I suppose, of being like her, so I just needed you to go, you know?”

Jimmy risked a glance at Thomas’s face and saw nothing but understanding and sympathy, and so managed to hold his gaze. “I’ve... been talking to the therapist about it all. He helped me see that... because of what she did, I’m afraid of being controlled like that again, so when I get scared, I do all that stuff to feel like I’m in control. I’m sorry. I know I hurt you.”

Thomas moved his thumb, stroking the side of Jimmy’s knee. “I’m sorry that happened to you; it’s awful,” Thomas said in a broken voice.

“Thanks,” Jimmy said shakily. For a long moment he could not look away, and wished more than anything that they could hold each other.

“Why didn’t you go to university?” Thomas asked. “You could have started studying, got yourself far away from her.”

“I was... scared,” Jimmy confessed, though still hiding a little in the past tense. “I didn’t know how to be myself, without them there. Even after what she did, it feels like she’s the only one around who really knew them.”

“You didn’t want to be alone,” Thomas murmured, and Jimmy nodded.

He struggled to smile and let out a tremulous breath. “Well, I’m dealing with it, I suppose,” he said, extracting his hands from under his legs. “Let’s put the telly back on.” As he spoke, his left hand floated up, and ran gently through the hair on top of Thomas’s head. “Sorry,” he said hastily, pulling the hand away again. “Erm... telly.”

Thomas smiled at him, a real, eye-twinkling smile, though tinged with sadness, and patted Jimmy’s knee once before turning his chair back to the TV.


	10. Chapter 10

In mid-March, Jimmy had two momentous conversations in one day.

* * *

 

Daisy had sounded surprised when Jimmy asked her to meet him for a coffee. It made him realise that he rarely initiated anything with her. He wanted to change that.

“I wanted you to be the first to know,” he said, when they were sat clutching their drinks.

She seemed to sense that he had something good to say; her eyes were bright with excitement and she was sitting up very straight. “What is it?”

Jimmy licked his lips, savouring the moment. “I’ve started late applications for university.”

Daisy made a little squealing noise and pressed both hands over her mouth. Jimmy was surprised to see tears in her eyes, and for the first time he understood that his friends had not stuck with him because they were loyal; rather, they were loyal because they were his friends. “That’s _brilliant_!” Daisy cried. “Oh, I’m so pleased for you!”

Jimmy found himself on the edge of tears as well. For so long, he had been looking forward to this; had taken extra maths lessons to ensure he passed; had waited anxiously for his exam results only to abandon the dream. And through all of it, Daisy and Will, and even Alfred and Ivy, had been there for him. Jimmy found himself grinning uncontrollably. “I love you, Daisy.”

Daisy hugged him tightly, smelling of artificial flowers as her nose pressed against his ear. “I love you too, and I’m so glad for you.”

* * *

The second conversation was with Thomas. Jimmy was so nervous about it that he could feel tremors in his muscles. Thomas was sitting next to him on the bed with his feet on the chair.

“I’m applying to university this year,” Jimmy said, turning to watch his reaction.

At first, Thomas seemed to wilt. A great sadness entered his expression, until he dispelled it with a smile. “That’s great,” he said. He sounded genuine, even though the sadness lingered in his eyes.

“That’s not all, though,” Jimmy continued. “I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

Thomas looked taken aback. “Come - but I - I’ve already done a degree.”

“I didn’t mean like that. I meant, come and live with me, wherever I go. We could be roommates properly. We practically are already.”

Thomas gazed at him, his expression open and wondrous. He looked so vulnerable in that moment that it took everything Jimmy had not to pull him into a soft kiss. “You mean that?” he asked quietly.

Happiness buoyed Jimmy up, as though he was floating several feet above his own body. “Of course I do. We don’t have to be in a relationship - I don’t think I’m ready just now, anyway - but - but I’d like to be one day, if you still want it. So... will you come with me?”

“Oh, love,” Thomas sighed. “That sounds amazing.”


	11. Epilogue

**6 months later**

“We have a flat,” Jimmy grinned as they walked through the door.

Thomas squeezed his hand and beamed back. “We do,” he agreed, and he looked so delectable that Jimmy had to put his last bag on the sofa to cup his cheeks and snog him.

Jimmy could hardly believe that he had got to this point. He was going to study architecture at last, Thomas had got a transfer to another branch of the shop and they had begun to discuss becoming business partners as well as the other type of partners they had already become.

Humming happily, Jimmy pulled away and wandered over to start unpacking idly. They had two weeks to settle in before Jimmy’s first day at university. He could hardly wait.

“I hate unpacking,” Thomas said mildly. He was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and a contented expression.

Jimmy shrugged. “You’ll have to do it at some point. I’m not doing it for you.”

“I’ll do it later, then,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ve got a bed to christen,” he added, quirking his eyebrows.

“I can’t nap now, I’m too excited,” Jimmy protested.

Thomas stalked over to him and slipped his arms around Jimmy’s waist. “That’s not at _all_ what I meant,” he said, and when he pulled Jimmy into a firm, loving kiss, Jimmy felt their broken edges lining up and building something altogether new, and altogether _theirs_.


End file.
